Friday, July 31, 2009

Can you hear me now?


I am writing this at a campground – The Campground with No Name – somewhere west of Cranbrook and east of Creston, B.C. We got in here about 7 o'clock tonight (Friday), having come from Duck Lake, Saskatchewan, where we slept last night. There was no internet service in Duck Lake, and there is none here, but at least we have power and water and a place to sleep. We are surrounded by trees and mountains, which I find a pleasant relief from the prairies. Remember when I exclaimed over the beauty of the Saskatchewan sky?

I've figured out my problem. I have a short little span of attention. The prairie sky looks great to me when I first see it, as do the waving fields of grain. Shortly, though, I hear a voice in my head whispering “Is this all there is?” And yes, by gum, that's all there is. My mother used to call it “acres upon acres of nothing but acres”, and Robin says “miles and miles of nothing but miles”, but it's all the same. I feel my mind curling up in a little ball and whimpering. This afternoon, when we came over Crowsnest Pass, I could hardly contain my joy.

Just before the pass, there's a place where the mountain fell down, some years ago. We drove quickly through there while I clicked my camera.

I wasn't so joyful when we discovered that in this part of the country, there aren't any RV parks (or precious few). There are RV “resorts”, where you're welcome to stay if you buy a lot. Uh, no. I began to think we would have to drive all the way to Castlegar, where I know there are RV parks – and that was a worrisome thought, as this is a long weekend. Back in Ontario, it's called the August Bank Holiday, and in BC it's called BC Day. I don't know what the rest of the country calls it, but basically it's August and we need a holiday, so we made one up. I was worried that we would drive all the way to Castlegar (another couple of hours, I think) and find that there was no room at the inn, as it were.

Anyway, I spotted this place and we pulled in at the store that also serves as the office. I asked for a space.

“How big is your rig?”

“Twenty-four feet”.

“Sorry, we don't have room for you.”

I trudged back to the Turtle. Robin had got out and was looking around. A woman approached me and told me we could have spot #4.

”But the young man in the store told me you don't have room.”

“He's wrong. You could fit into #4.”

She turned out to be the owner, so we took her word for it. Robin put the Turtle into spot #4 while I went inside the store again and paid the bill. The young man was apologetic and a little embarrassed. I told him not to worry. I was just grateful to have a place to lay my head.

A coyote crossed the road in front of us today. Apart from that and the difficulty in finding a place to stay, that's about all that was remarkable about the day. I'll post this as soon as we reach civilization. That should be tomorrow.

3 comments:

Kathryn Magendie said...

I remember visiting Oregon and driving along when coyote ran in front of my rental car -- I missed him by just a hair - I would have felt horrid as I hit him....

I thought of you yesterday at the book fair - a woman came to my table with a big silver turtle pin someone had made her - I smiled to myself thinking of you...

Sandra Leigh said...

I have a metallic Turtle ornament that travels with me. I can't even remember where I got it, but I find it comforting. Also, my son made a lino print of a turtle when he was a child, and I have that, always thinking that one of these days I'll use it to print placemats. I wonder how we come to identify with these totems?

John Hayes said...

I feel the same way about Kansas--a vast stretch of miles.

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